


Light at Dawn

by DragonGlass09



Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Demonic Possession, Demonic Powers, Demons, F/F, Hell, LGBTQ Character, Murder, Sadism, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 14:37:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9445826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonGlass09/pseuds/DragonGlass09
Summary: A woman finds herself in a cold place... odd... considering where she is.This Is my first original work... if it does well here... i will continue it.





	1. Epilouge

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first original work... lemme know what you think!

It's cold.

That's rather surprising... considering where I am. I know fully well where I am. I don't even need to open my eyes. I could be in one of two places after that bus hit me. And I can rule out the other place... the cold is too annoying for that. I can't quite wrap my head around why I ended up here though.

I like to think I was a good person. I cared for my friends. I was generous... always giving my time to those who needed it and borrowing money. I was the top of my class... well... that isn't an example of goodness... but still! I worked at a nursing home, in the kitchen, but you think that's still doing good, right? I always was extra nice to the residents, regardless of how awkward I was... I paid special attention to their needs. I suppose I was never very pious. I mean... I believed... but not much more than that... I went to church every week... but it was more because I had to.

My parents... were very religious. At least my dad was... my mom died giving birth to me, but he always said that she would've wanted me to be raised like... he did... I never really felt loved there. Whenever I did something bad... he'd find a fancy passage of scripture to carve into my arm... or he'd recite it to me as he hit me with his belt... or he'd hit me while I recited it or... sorry... I kind of got of get emotional on this topic. Needless to say, I didn't grow up without some physical and emotional scars. I also wasn't a big fan of going to church... I mean... I didn't hate god... or disagree with the things it said in the bible... it just brought up some bad memories hearing some of the same words I heard while being... "disciplined" is how I believe he said it.

Naturally... you can imagine the dilemma I face when I realized I liked other women. Specifically, one women... Her name is Dawn. I can honestly say I love her with all of my heart... her fire red hair, her spotted freckles, her distinct laugh (she snorts a little, real cute). She'd think it was funny how I got red highlights in my brown hair... yeah, that's totally what it was... I never had the heart to tell her about my father, or how he would never support our relationship.

Oddly enough... I did find support in a rather unexpected place... The first person I told that I was gay was my pastor... despite the fact that I always felt uncomfortable at church, Lucian always was there for me. His white beard and deep laugh always made me feel at peace. Without him I likely would have ran from home a long time ago. He was the main reason I kept faith with god. He was surprisingly supportive of my... preference. He told me that god loved all things and forgave all things... and he couldn't blame someone else for being able to love another person. He was more of a father to me than mine ever was.

Naturally of course... my father found out about Dawn and me. I have no idea how, it wasn't that long ago, so I didn't have time to figure it out, but I still can't wrap my head around how he did it. I came home from school one day... so close to getting my psychology degree... so close to taking Dawn and driving as far away as I could and making sure no one would be as scarred as I was. But unfortunately, I wasn't so lucky. When I came home I found him sitting in his usual chair drinking his beer... though he was drinking more that night... I asked him if he needed anything, to avoid being yelled at... He just looked up to me with a look of disappointment on his face. He stood up and pulled something out of his pocket. My blood ran cold as I realized what it was... a revolver. He pointed it at me and screamed, "HOW LONG HAS MY DAUGHTER BEEN A FAG!".

I stood there, shocked. I had no idea what to do so I just answered his question. "About 4 years... I realized near the end of high school."

His look of disappointment was gone. He simply had a look of rage. He did something I never thought of then. He shot me in the right leg. I screamed as I fell. He walked up to me and yelled, "NO DAUGHTER OF MINE CHOOSES TO BE A FAGGOT!" as he hit me with the butt of the revolver... Luckily, he was intoxicated, or he likely would have been able to hold on to the gun as he hit me. It fell to the floor. And in a rush I did the only thing I could think of, I picked it up... pointed it at his head... and pulled the trigger.

It only occurred to me a few seconds later what I had done... as I saw his brains on the window behind him and his lifeless body slump to the floor. I was in shock at what I had just done. I was more in shock that a part of me enjoyed it... finally beating my father. Disgusted with myself... and at a loss of what to do, I stood up painfully, and limped out the door, you know... due to the bullet in my leg. As I left the house I found I couldn't think... the next thing I knew... I was in the street, a bright light behind me. I whisked around to see the last thing I would see in a while... a bus which ran me down...

I killed my own father... and a part of me enjoyed it... Hell... Maybe I do belong here. 


	2. Chapter 1

   Did I mention it was cold in here? I've been here... strapped to a table in complete darkness for around... a month? Well... judging by where I am... It's probably a form of torture. Not very affective... I'm from Minnesota... hard to live there if cold bothers you... Still lonely...

Well... I have been hearing voices... screams... rambling... and such... I can feel their agony through their voices... that's the real torture. I can hear specific screams... oddly enough... Some of their screams turn into a cool laughter after a while, accompanying another scream. I think... When you break... They put you up to torture other people. Sick is what that is. Some last a few days... Others draw on for longer... A few have been here since I came... and show no signs of giving in yet... Some... the ones who ramble... seem to have been broken to the point they couldn't give in if they wanted to. I wonder what they did to deserve this... what anyone could do to deserve THIS.

I think I do. I killed my own father. He may not have been the best man... but I still killed him. Not to mention the pleasure I took in doing it. While I've been sitting here, I realized my greatest regret is not doing it sooner. I could've easily done it... No one liked him... No one would notice he was gone. I could've... taken my time with it too...

Wait... WHAT? What the hell (HA!) is this? This... place is getting to me... How long would I last before I break? Or would I just go up chopping right away? I mean... It couldn't be too bad...

Before I could put any more thought into this the door swung open. The room is suddenly filled with bright light. A womanly figure walks in, old, clipboard and pen, pretty much an old secretary. I find it hard to stifle a laugh. She doesn't seem to notice. "Victoria Kingsley," she says in a cold voice, "Do you know why you're here?"

"Did killing my father have something to do with it?" I say sarcastically.

A sick smile works its way onto her face. "Ah, a joker!" she then proceeds to throw the pen into my leg. "Fuck!" I yell as the blood sprays everywhere.

"Of course that's why you're here." She says returning to her cool demeanor. "Now to business... I come here once. That's all. Then they come in... I'm sure you know what happens if they do." She says with a hint of a smile. "But I come with an offer... I'll untie you... and you'll never... have to feel anther prick on your skin," she said, playing with the pen in my leg. "It'll change you, of course... but a small price to pay for an afterlife without pain..."

I sit... silent... seriously contemplating her offer... I can't believe I'm considering it. Yet... I know ill give in eventually... I might as well give in now... lest I suffer like I did with my father... No! I can't accept! That's horrible...

I went like this for a few hours... yet she still stood and watched... But it seems as if she finally has had enough...

"Well... I can't say I'm disappointed... I'm sure we'll have fun with you..." she turns towards the cell door. Her heels clicking on the floor.

I make a decision... "Wait!" I yell. She stops and turns around. "Yes?" she asks intrigued. Then the two most foul words I ever will utter fall from my lips...

"I accept"


End file.
